<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Old Possum by gardnerhill</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25275295">Old Possum</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardnerhill/pseuds/gardnerhill'>gardnerhill</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Cats and Dogs Living Together [16]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock Holmes &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Animals, Community: watsons_woes, Gen, Story: The Adventure of the Dying Detective</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:35:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,100</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25275295</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardnerhill/pseuds/gardnerhill</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Adventure of the Dead Detective.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sherlock Holmes &amp; John Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Cats and Dogs Living Together [16]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/24533</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Watson's Woes JWP Collection: 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Old Possum</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For the 2020 July Watson's Woes Promptfest prompt #14, <b>The Rest is Silence: </b>Let your work today include a time when silence was essential or the main focus of attention. For example: Holmes staying silent and infuriating Watson; silence waiting for a telegram/phone call; silently waiting for a suspect...</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I was hobbling back from the fish market with our supper when I saw a black cat flat on the side of the road. Dread pierced me to the heart. With a yelp of distress I dropped the herrings and galloped to Shock's side. Don't be dead don't be dead don't be dead –</p><p>The grotesque angle of the little body, all four limbs splayed out, the half-bared teeth in a rictus, the utter <i>silence</i> of a feline who was never quiet (even when he did not speak to me he was calling out to his alley network, or grooming himself, or purring to himself) – all of these were the marks of a sudden death by car. I reached down to nuzzle the black fur. What would I do now, alone again, what would I –</p><p>The steady thump of a strong heartbeat met my nose just as I realised that I didn't smell death on Shock. Nor did I smell blood, nor the foulness of ruptured internal wounds.</p><p>One claw extended and retracted. Not another movement, except for my snorted breaths ruffling black fur. The half-closed staring eyes didn't even move to look at me.</p><p>He was alive. Alive, unhurt, but as still and silent as death.</p><p>It was a trick. Shock was playing dead for some purpose.</p><p>I huffed out a hot breath in agreement, all the response I made. But Shock was smart and knew me; he knew I knew he was shamming.</p><p>We'd been together for a while now, Shock and I. All the locals, four-legged and -two, knew us. They knew we'd become… not friends of course, we'd never be friends, but a working team. There was loyalty there, and some feeling. They'd expect me to react.</p><p>
      <i>Don't overdo this, Army dog.</i>
    </p><p>I nuzzled Shock's still, silent body some more. I made a soft whine in the back of my throat. I pushed the "dead" cat's body with my nose, whining more. Ears down. Tail down. One last lick of the silent body. Hobble slowly back into the alley, head down, tail down, all alone.</p><p>Then turn around at the alley entrance, focus on the little black body, and wait, ears cocked.</p><p>I expected sad humans, curious pigeons ready for a quick peck at free food, an opportunistic rat or two. But a great flash of white wings, yellow bills and feet, and screeching nautical profanity appeared first.</p><p>The first and biggest of the three gulls reached down to Shock's eyes.</p><p>A hiss from the "dead" cat. A gull-screech.</p><p>I needed no further command, and charged forward. Seize the first gull by the head, one crunch, drop. Seize, snap, catch the other two by their wings as they leaped skyward. One head-shake, two cracks, screams of pain. Drop. I gripped one of the two living gulls by the back of the neck and kept my forepaw across the second, heedless of their flopping, powerless wings.</p><p>Shock was sitting upright and washing his face as if we'd just finished breakfast. He seemed not to notice the screaming and crying from our two captives, nor the sprawled corpse of the first gull beside him. "It's far too much work to track kitten-killing gulls back to the wharf and their particular docks, even with the best nose in London helping me. Besides, far too many of your friends would swoop to your aid there. Better to lay out a safe meal of fresh feline and let your own greed snare you."</p><p>So these were the birds that had been harrying nursing queen-cats and picking off newborn kits. Their grieving mothers and littermates could sleep soundly tonight.</p><p>The two survivors were screeching in pain now, and were absolutely true to form. "It weren't us!" "It were all Wil's doing, I swear!" "Yeah, we just went along with Wil, it's all on him!" "I never dunnit!" "She started it!" "No fair!" "We'll peck your plucking eyes out next time you goddamn alley-cat!"</p><p>"You two mis-hatched cat-eaters have a choice to make." Shock's voice was as level and polite as ever, but his tail waved slowly, a sure sign of his anger. "You can go to a particular spot on the docks – some friends of mine will lead you there on foot, since you can't fly – where humans run a rescue house for wild birds. They will take you in, see if your wings are salvageable, mend them if so and keep you until you can fly again; in this case you may return to the docks, and never harm another kit or pup in my streets again if you value your lives. If your wings cannot be saved the humans will cut them off and keep you well-fed in a large cage until your deaths by old age. Or if you refuse this generous offer, this very hungry dog will make you as harmless as Wil here, right now. What do you choose?"</p><p>More screeching and crying, whines and excuses. But the gist was they didn't want me to crush their heads too. So at Shock's yowl a few pigeons swooped down, laughing and swearing; "Come with us, Lefty," snickered one wry-footed fellow. I backed off and away from the gulls, keeping my eyes on them until the odd parade had hopped out of sight. (One of them had swung her head around for a last stab at Shock but at seeing my bared teeth, still bloody from crushing Wil's skull, she changed her mind.)</p><p>Shock was atop his crate and grooming himself thoroughly. "You <span class="u">would</span> lick my fur wrong-way round, Army dog."</p><p>I dropped the white feathery body I'd carried from the street and licked my chops. "Dead cats don't notice things like that. We're having Wil tonight, by the way. Someone stole our fish when I dropped them."</p><p>"How very surprising." The cat stretched, arched his back and yawned, his tongue curling. "However, a cat eating a cat-eater is a pleasing form of revenge." Shock hopped down to sniff at the dead gull.</p><p>Later, when we were both fed and the evidence nearly gone, I nudged the crate where Shock had resumed his perch. "You could have told me you were going to play dead, you know. You scared me for a moment."</p><p>"You feigned loss well enough once you were there, Army dog. But that first panicked charge of yours was all the proof those creatures needed to believe it."</p><p>I curled nose to tail. "I wasn't <span class="u">panicked</span>. I was merely <span class="u">concerned</span> that I would need to find another street partner."</p><p>"Of course." Shock was nearly asleep. "Merely concerned."</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>